Feathers and Flames
by furtive felicity
Summary: Fires are igniting all over the United States, and two demon hunters aren't so sure it's all a coincidence. Not only that, but they've suddenly acquired a new colleague: a woman about Sam's age who attracts the younger Winchester's eye. It's a recipe for disaster- but then again, what isn't? UA (Universe Alterations). Read and review!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Sam Winchester brushed his hair out of his face and frowned at the iron fence in front of him. He was a tall man- though he didn't know exactly how tall- and that meant the fence shouldn't be too difficult to climb over. But still. The spikes at the top of the gate (painful) combined with the huge Victorian mansion behind it (creepy) gave him a sense of foreboding that was rare, for him. He'd braved a lot worse than an old house.

Not for the first time that night, Sam felt a pang of annoyance at his brother for not being present. Not that it was Dean's fault. A surprising turn of events at their last hunt had landed him in the hospital with three broken ribs and Sam with enough mental scarring to last him a lifetime.

(In his opinion, at least. The universe, apparently, had a different point of view.)

Still, Sam hated being on a hunt without Dean. Even though this should be easy. A simple salt-and-burn. A job that Sam had really only taken up because he was bored of waiting at the hospital for Dean to get better.

According to some vague stories Sam had found online, those who happened to to walk by the mansion around night-time could hear terrible, blood-curdling screams coming from deep within it. The reports dated back to about a year ago, and also said that the three men sent over to investigate came back having found nothing. Those in the neighboring area speculated that it was just a cat, or an owl, or some other sort of screeching, but entirely natural, animal.

Sam sighed heavily, his hands flicking towards his pistol to reassure himself that it was still there, and began to scale the gate. At the top he paused, glanced again at the creepy house and then at the ground below him, and leapt downwards. His feet hit gravel with a loud, conspicuous crunch.

_This would be easier if someone had actually died here, _Sam thought to himself. Because that was the weird thing: according to the Internet, no one ever had. No mysterious disappearances either. And while the mansion had been abandoned for just under fifty years, the screamings were a relatively new occurrence.

Gravel crunching underfoot, Sam began up the pathway which led to the top of the hill, where the mansion lurked ominously. He pulled out a flashlight and flipped the switch, allowing the warm yellow beam to light his way, and then the screaming started.

It was faint and far away- though it definitely came from within the house- and it was terrible. It sounded like someone being tortured. Sam pulled out his gun and bolted towards the house.

He climbed the rickety wooden stairs two at a time, practically flew across the porch, and threw open the door. It opened with a loud, wailing _creak_ that made Sam wince.

The nervous feeling returned. Sam stepped tentatively over the threshold, swinging his flashlight so that he could survey every inch of the room. For a house abandoned fifty years, it wasn't in terrible condition. Everything was faded and thick with dust, there were cobwebs in every nook and cranny (_ugh, _Sam thought), but other than that... It just seemed frozen, as though time had gone on all around it but not inside the house itself. Not a breath of wind stirred the room, and the only noises were Sam's shallow breathing and the beating of his heart in his ears.

Well, that and the screaming.

Sam pushed aside a curtain that hung over a doorway, coughing as a cloud of dust was released into the air. He stepped inside, letting the curtain fall behind him, and looked around what must've been at one point the dining room. There was a long wooden table in the center and a huge crystal chandelier above it. Behind the table was a china cabinet, filled with plates and- of all the creepy things- dolls.

And, strangely enough, the screaming was coming from behind it.

Sam stepped back into the main room and began searching for a way to get behind the wall. During the fifteen minutes that he searched, the screams petered out and then stopped entirely, and Sam finally had to admit that there was no obvious way to get behind the wall. A secret passage, then? Cliche, but... possible.

Sam walked inside the dining room and turned in a slow circle, trying to find something that could lead to a secret passage. Then he strode to the china cabinet and searched it top to bottom before finding hinges on the left side. He walked over to the other side of the cabinet, placed his fingers on the edge, and tried to open it as one might open a door with no doorknob.

It swung open with surprising ease, revealing a narrow passage with a staircase leading downwards. Feeling apprehensive, Sam started to walk down the stairs, noticing as he did so how they didn't creak under his weight like everything else did in the mansion.

There was a light at the end of the staircase. Sam began to walk faster, the light of the flashlight bobbing as he half-jogged, holding his gun at an angle so that he could shoot easily if threatened. _If only Dean were here..._

He reached the end of the staircase and, his heart beating double time, stepped out into the light. When he saw the source of the horrible, tortured screaming, he gasped.

It was a girl.

She was chained to the floor like a prisoner, dressed in a tattered white dress, and she might have been beautiful once, but she was now so covered in blood that whatever beauty she had had was now indiscernible. And she was trapped- not only by chains- but by a ring of blazing fire that encircled her completely. Upon sighting Sam, her eyes went wide, and she scrambled backward with a strangled panicked noise.

"I'm not going to hurt you," whispered Sam, horrified. The girl didn't seem to understand. She looked terrified as he came forwards. "Who trapped you here?"

The girl didn't respond. She had beautiful, almost inhuman, blue eyes, but there was something _off _about them- blank, nearly insane. _Well, no wonder, _thought Sam, _she's been tortured for over a year... _The fire bit was strange, though. She was already trapped by the chains, why add fire? It seemed unnecessary. But that was of no matter. Sam took off his jacket and stepped forward, trying to seem reassuring as the girl- she couldn't have been much younger than he was- watched him with wide eyes. With the jacket he beat out the flames. Once there was a break in the ring, the girl relaxed visibly, but still flinched away from him when he stepped closer. "I'm going to get you out of here," said Sam quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

Wordlessly, the girl indicated the rest of the fire that surrounded her. "Do you want me to beat that out, too?" asked Sam. She gave no sign of having understood him, but rather waved her hand again, more urgently. "Okay," he said, and proceeded to beat out the rest of the flames with his jacket.

When all the flames were extinguished, the girl smiled widely. This produced such a change in her face that it was startling. She reached a hand up and Sam bent down so that he could look her in the eye, and she brushed a strand of hair out of his face. And then she disappeared with what sounded like a flutter of wings, but was probably just the wind.

Sam jumped backwards in surprise. "What the hell?" He took another step back, and then turned and rushed up the stairs again, feeling sincerely freaked out.

Of course, it would be a long time until he discovered that angels existed. With that discovery, he would learn that a ring of fire made with a certain oil can keep angels trapped. And then he would come to the condition that he had saved an angel.

But all that was very far into the future.


	2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer

**Many Years Later**

Dean Winchester is not having a good day.

It had started with the vampires. In general, vampires were relatively easy to take care of. Find the vamp, cut off its head, done. But in this case, there is a whole pack of them, and it is dark, and Sam has somehow managed to lose the sword.

"It's got the sword," Sam hisses, ducking as one of the vampires lunges towards him.

"How the crap did it get the sword?" asks Dean. He swings a fist at the nearest vampire, who dodges him all too easily. Sharp teeth graze his knuckles, but don't sink in. The only light comes from an old flickering street lamp that is too far away, and the slightest sliver of moon in the sky. It is terribly difficult to fight outlines.

"Well," says Sam, sounding pained, "I think it broke my wrist in the process. You try keeping your hands on a sword with a broken wrist."

"Oh, all right," grumbles Dean. He pushes the nearest vampire up against the brick wall and pulls out his gun, shoving it against the vampire's neck. He pulls the trigger and the shot rings loud and clear in the alleyway. It won't kill the thing, but hopefully it will slow it down.

"Get Cas. Can you get Cas? He has the angel powers," says Sam. He dodges another lunge from a vampire and stumbles against Dean.

"We don't _need _Cas," says Dean, frustrated. "We did just fine without him." As though to prove his point, he turns to a vampire and flips it on its back. He brings his foot down hard on the vampire's chest, and there's a crunching sound of breaking bones. The vampire screeches in pain. Dean doesn't seem bothered by the noise.

"Fine, whatever," says Sam, and then quiets. "Dean, there's a person."

"What?" Dean glances over, and sure enough, there's the figure of a woman in the dim light of the street lamp. She has her head tilted slightly to the side, as though she's both curious and confused about the goings-on in front of her. Distracted, Sam doesn't notice the approaching vampire until its teeth sink throughout his jacket and layer of plaid, pushing into his skin. He gives a shout of surprise and pain and yanks his hand back; the vampire's teeth scratch alongside his arm but don't break any more skin.

The woman advances: one step forward, two. "Are you alright?" she calls. "Do you need me to call for help?"

"We're fine, lady. Just walk away," says Dean, his voice strained. The next glimpse he gets of the woman finds her running towards them. What is she, stupid? he wonders. She's unarmed and has no idea what she'd be up against.

"Dean?" says Sam in a nervous sing-song. "She has a gun."

Okay. So she's not unarmed.

"Break it up, boys," she says firmly, pointing the gun with a well-trained hand at first Dean, then a vampire, then Sam. "I'll shoot if I have to." It's too dark to see properly, but Dean thinks that she flashes a badge. Police. Shit. One of the vampires advances towards her, and she swings her gun to point it at him. The vampire smiles, widely. Sharp teeth glint in the dim moonlight. She stumbles backwards, looking surprised. "What...?"

"Vampires," says Sam breathlessly, round-house kicking one of the vampires in the shin. The cut in his arm throbs. "The only way to kill them is by decapitation."

Dean sends his brother an irritated glare. The woman seems unsure. "I don't know if I believe you," she starts, but then utters a small cry and yanks her hand back to avoid a snarling vampire. "They just look like people."

"They were," says Sam glumly, "before they got infected. Now they're vampires. Well, they're still human really, but they're crazed with bloodlust."

"You should probably leave now, sweetheart," says Dean. "Not much you can do, unless you want to get torn to shreds."

The woman is silent for a moment. Even in the dark, Sam can see that there's something calculating in her frown. It's hard to get a good glimpse of her, between dodging and punching, but he can tell that she's thinking.

"Decapitation..." she mutters. "I'm not big on the idea of decapitating people just because two loons told me they were vampires."

"Right. Well, if you'll excuse us, these two loons have stuff the need to do, including-" Dean pauses, one hand frozen in a fist just centimeters away from a vampire, when he notices that the woman is no longer there. Instead she's creeping through the shadows, pressing against the wall. The vampires are distracted; they don't notice her.

She's walking towards the vampire with the sword. That's who Sam is battling now: A rather plump redheaded man with the sword dangling all too loosely in his right hand. He doesn't notice the woman, and neither does Sam. Dean watches her, certain he's about to witness her death.

But she doesn't get eaten alive. Instead, she sneaks behind the vampire, wrenches the sword out of his hand, and cuts off his head in one quick, fluid motion. Then she tosses the sword to Sam.

"Kill 'em," she says, sounding ill.

After that, the job is easy. Even with his broken wrist and throbbing arm, Sam is more than able to cut off the vampires' heads; soon the three of them are standing surrounded by seven headless bodies. The woman looks vaguely sickened.

"You just murdered six people," she breaths. "I just murdered someone."

"Yeah, well, welcome to our world," says Dean. He turns to his brother and gestures to the mouth of the alleyway. Sam nods. He's cradling his hurt arm in his unharmed one, his jaw set and his teeth clenched. The two begin to walk out of the alley, and after a moment Dean realizes that the woman is following them.

Sam phrases his thoughts much more politely than Dean would've. "You probably shouldn't come with us."

The woman shrugs. "Yeah, I probably shouldn't." Her voice sounds far too flippant.

The three walk several steps until they're standing underneath the streetlamp. Now Sam and Dean are able to get a good look at the woman. She's dressed conservatively but nicely- khakis, boots, a grey button-up blouse and a scarf- with long chestnut hair and green eyes to rival Dean's. She's not beautiful, but she's not at all bad-looking.

She smiles- more like a smirk, really, but a nervous sort of smirk- and plays with her grey knit scarf, trying to get the vampire blood out of it. "I just saved both of your lives," she says. "I'm coming with you." Dean scowls, about to make a smart retort, but Sam tugs on his sleeve and looks at him meaningfully. _We need to leave, _his look says. _Before someone finds the bodies. _

"Fine," grumbles Dean. He looks at the woman, whose smile has turned genuine at his words. "What's your name, Buffy?"

"Well, it's not Buffy," she says cheerily. Dean raises his eyebrows at her and she cracks a small, apologetic smile at him. "You can call me Emily."

"Right. Emily. Let's get this clear. If you're with us, you're gonna die. We live in a world of spirits and demons and angels, and while it's not boring, it ain't fun. Also, you're gonna have to sleep on the couch- there's not much room in the hotel. And if you make any comments about the music I play in my car, I'm kicking you out."

Emily looks down for a moment. "Okay. Can I have your name?"

"I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam. Winchester."

"Cool." Emily turns her smile to Sam. Dean steps protectively, unconsciously, in front of his brother, and the three of them begin their walk back to the Impala.


	3. Meeting the Angel

The ride to the hotel is awkwardly quiet, save for the classic rock filling the car. Dean drives like a madman, at least twenty miles above the speed limit, but the roads are safely empty. Emily sits in the back seat, her back painfully straight, her legs crossed at the ankles, her hands in her lap. Dean continually glances back at her in the rearview mirror, as though expecting her eyes to flash black at any moment.

Speaking of which...

The car swerves as Dean realises what he _didn't _do. Holy water. How could he have been so _stupid? _How could Sam not have reminded him? He pulls over to the side of the road and throws open his door, glancing back at Emily. She seems puzzled.

"Get out."

"Wh- why?"

"Out," commands Dean forcefully. Looking uncomfortable, Emily slides out of the Impala and stands facing Dean, her arms crossed. Sam climbs out of the car as well, looking equally confused. But when he sees Dean pull the bottle of holy water out of his jacket, he visibly relaxes.

She winces when she's splashed in the face, but it's a wince of surprise and not of pain. Looking irritated she wipes the water off her face with the back of her hand. "What was that for?"

"Holy water," Sam hurries to explain. "To make sure you aren't a demon."

"Oh. Well, you could've told me." Emily shakes her hands, spraying droplets of holy water everywhere, and climbs back inside the car. "Are you happy now? Think I'm not going to kill you?"

"Well, you did have that gun... Hey!" Sam remembers something. "I thought you were police."

"Oh, no. I'm an actress. The gun wasn't real- I was bringing it home to repaint it. It's wood, see?" Sam feels something tap his shoulder and glances back to see what is now obviously a stage prop.

"Oh. What play are you-" But Sam is drowned out by a burst of Metallica when Dean pointedly raises the volume. He turns a scowl to his brother, but Dean ignores him, keeping his eyes steadily on the road. Emily retreats to silence.

Gradually the yellowish light of the Super 8 begins to come into view. Dean indicates it with a wave of his hand. "That's where we're staying."

"Mmm. It's nice."

Dean replies with a short laugh. "It's better than what we usually have, anyway." He pauses, thinking of something. "Hey- don't you have a house? Other clothes? A family?"

"Not really," responds Emily. "I have my dad, that's it for family. I was staying with him while I worked on the play. Les Miserables, since you asked, Sam. He won't miss me. I don't have very many other clothes... I'm still spending a lot of money trying to pay off college."

"_College," _says Dean derisively. "Sammy went to college."

"Oh, really? Where'd you go?"

"Stamford," answers Sam, just as Dean parks the Impala in the parking lot of the Super 8. "Law school." Emily looks incredulous but doesn't bother to argue. The three climb out of the car, an unofficial trio, and then Dean pauses. He rummages in the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the hotel room key.

"You two go on ahead," he says, with an almost imperceptible smirk to Sam. "I need beer like I need air in my lungs right now."

Sam sends his older brother a disgruntled glare, catching the meaning behind the otherwise innocent words. "Don't we have beer in the hotel?"

"Nah, we ran out last night." Dean climbs back inside the Impala and turns on the engine. "I'll be back in a couple hours... or tomorrow morning, depending on how the night goes." He smiles and drives off, his windows rolled down so that Emily and Sam can hear Led Zeppelin wafting through the air.

* * *

><p>Sam slides the key into the door to his hotel room, opens it, and then jumps back. "What the hell, Cas? What are you doing here?"<p>

A blue eyed, dark haired man in formal wear and a trench coat looks up from a magazine he's been perusing. "I was waiting for you to return," he replies. His steady gaze falls on Emily, who looks uncomfortable. He surveys her for several long moments and then looks back at Sam. "You've brought a friend."

"Friend- well." Sam realizes the absurdity of the situation- he's bringing a girl into their lives whom he barely knows, just because she helped with some vampires. Even more absurd that she seems to trust them completely. "She helped us on the hunt. Her name's Emily." Cas nods, his blue gaze flickering between Emily and Sam.

"I'm Castiel," he says finally. "I'm an angel of the Lord."

Emily nods slowly. "An angel," she says, as though struggling to believe it. "Wow."

"He's a friend of ours," says Sam to Emily. "Angels aren't the fluffy, fat, pink-and-yellow cretins you see in paintings- far from it- but Cas is okay."

Emily seems dizzy. "I think I need to sit down," she says vaguely, and moves towards the couch. Sam rushes to clear a space for her- the couch is cluttered with hunting supplies and empty food packages (_We probably could use a woman's hand_, Sam thinks with a tinge of embarrassment)- and then rushes to reassure her.

"I know, I know, it's a lot to take in. Look, Dean's got the car now, but when he gets back I can drive you home if you want, it's no trouble. Do you need a beer or something?" because he's absolutely sure that there are still beers left in the fridge.

Emily looks up, her jaw set. "I'm fairly certain I want to stay, Sam. But thank you. I just need a moment to think."

Sam waits to make sure that she's alright, but she's sitting with her chin resting in her hands, staring off into space, and doesn't say any more. Sam turns to Cas, who's gone back to flipping idly through the magazine. "So why'd you come?" he asks.

Castiel sets the magazine down for a second time-he doesn't understand the point in looking at a bunch of cars anyway- and speaks seriously. "I wanted to know if you've heard about the fires?"


	4. Fire and Madness

After Castiel has finished explaining the fires, Sam feels more relaxed. "They're just forest fires, man. They're natural. If it's too dry, or some idiot leaves a cigarette lying around, whole forests will go up in flames. Nothing to worry about."

"No," says Castiel. "I've observed this earth for millennia. I know what forest fires are. These aren't normal."

"He's right, you know," says Emily from the couch, snapping back into reality, "about the not normal thing. I read it in the paper- this huge forest fire right by Seattle. After a rainstorm, too. A cigarette couldn't have caused that." She leans forward. "I mean, it is rather odd, isn't it?'

Sam sighs heavily and reaches for his laptop. "Fine, I'll look into it. But I'm sure it's nothing." He hopes it's nothing. Is it too much to ask for a couple normal days?

Apparently it is. Five minutes of research brings up something that is, as Emily has put it, rather odd: there aren't any articles on forest fires. Not one. Not even about normal forest fires, like the ones that ravage parched trees in California and Nevada. So he broadens his search.

Twenty five frustrating minutes later- during which Emily has picked up the car magazine and Cas has taken to staring out the window at a murder of crows- Sam stumbles upon something interesting. A blog post from two days ago, with a blurry photograph of a nice yellow house enveloped in blue flames.

_I came home to find my house like this, _the post reads. _And I can't explain it. Those of you who read my blog know that I'm OCD. I checked and double-checked to make sure that the stove and all the lights were off. And only last week I had people come over to make sure that all my electricity and gas things were in order. I have no explanation. It's shocking. I've never seen flames such as these._

Scrolling through the comments, Sam's sense of foreboding begins to grow. He hunches over his laptop. Mixed with the typical "Oh My Goodness"s and "Is Everyone Okay"s and "I'm Praying For You"s are comments such as "This happened to my cousin," and "Blue flames are the very hottest-" (which Sam already knows)- "a house really shouldn't just burst into them" and, yes, "Didn't this happen right outside of Seattle?"

He closes his laptop and leans back with another deep sigh. Emily glances up from the car magazine. "Found anything?" she asks sweetly, setting down the car magazine and walking over to him. Her eyebrows, slightly raised, suggest that she knows the answer.

"Yeah," says Sam reluctantly. He waves her over and opens his laptop again. "So get this: there aren't any articles at all concerning forest fires. None. And I found this blog post..." Emily leans over his shoulder, frowning at the screen while Sam details what he's found.

"So we should start by talking to that guy, right?" she asks once he's finished.

"We'll have to wait until Dean gets back," Sam says, "seeing as he has the car. In the meantime you can watch TV or something... you seemed bored. Remote's over there." He gestures vaguely with his hand. Emily strides over to the bedside table and picks up the remote control; Sam returns to his research.

"...just in: George's Bar in the Roscoe County area has burst into flames for unknown reasons. The fire department is there-" The TV screen glitches and stutters before going out and at the same time the light bulbs explode. Sam covers his head as small shards of glasses rain down on him, Emily gives a sharp cry of surprise, and Cas shouts something like, "Dean!"

"The bar," says Emily urgently. Sam sees her rush over to him in the light of his computer screen and feels her hand grip his arm. "Your brother! Isn't he at the bar?"

Sam bolts upward but then seems to calm when a sound like fluttering wings fills the room. There is a pause, then the sound fills the room again and a very strong smell of smoke hits his nostrils.

Castiel sets the older Winchester on the bed with surprising gentleness and steps back. For a moment it seems like the room is holding its breath, waiting in fear. Hoping that Dean is alright.

Dean coughs loudly and sits up, to a collective sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."

Dean stands, reeling in the dark, and advances towards Sam. Sam takes a step back, unsure. "Dean, man, are you alright?" And then he jerks backward; Dean leaps at him and punches him squarely across the jaw.

Everything after that is a jumble of motion and shouting. Cas and Emily both rush to restrain Dean, who screams unintelligible curses at Sam mixed with violent, shaking coughs. Emily grabs his arms, wrenching them behind his back, but drops them when she realizes that his wrists are slick with blood. Sam scrambles in the dark for a flashlight and Cas wraps his arms tightly around Dean, ignoring the blood that seeps through his fingers and through his clothes. Dean continues to struggle- "Let me at him! Let go! It's all his damn fault!" can be heard among the garbled oaths.

Sam finds a flashlight and switches it on. He feels his stomach turn at the sight of his brother. Dean's clothes are torn and singed; he's been slashed with a knife; he's drenched in so much crimson blood that it can't all be his own. And his eyes- filled with fury, like the rest of his blood and smoke stained face- but somehow empty and far away. He doesn't seem to be drunk, but rather insane. Emily looks close to fainting.

But she doesn't faint. Instead she springs into action. "Cas," she says, "you're an angel. Can you heal him?"

Castiel smiles. "I'm ahead of you already." Sam notices that the knife wounds have faded, though the blood remains.

"We need to clean him off," says Emily. She frowns at Dean, thinking, before saying, "Um, can we get him to the bathroom? Sam, you can wash him off, I guess. We need to sedate him first or something." Cas nods and places two fingers to Dean's forehead, and the older Winchester goes limp in the angel's arms.


End file.
